Cloten. I would this music would come: I am advised to give
her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate.
[Enter Musicians]Come on; tune: if you can penetrate her with your
990fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: if none
will do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'er.
First, a very excellent good-conceited thing;
after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich
words to it: and then let her consider.
995[SONG]Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
1000And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With every thing that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise.
1005

Cloten. So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will
consider your music the better: if it do not, it is
a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs and
calves'-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to
boot, can never amend.
1010

Cloten. I am glad I was up so late; for that's the reason I
was up so early: he cannot choose but take this
service I have done fatherly.
1015[Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN]Good morrow to your majesty and to my gracious mother.

Cymbeline. Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?
Will she not forth?

Cloten. I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice.
1020

Cymbeline. The exile of her minion is too new;
She hath not yet forgot him: some more time
Must wear the print of his remembrance out,
And then she's yours.

Queen. You are most bound to the king,
1025Who lets go by no vantages that may
Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself
To orderly soliciting, and be friended
With aptness of the season; make denials
Increase your services; so seem as if
1030You were inspired to do those duties which
You tender to her; that you in all obey her,
Save when command to your dismission tends,
And therein you are senseless.

Messenger. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome;
The one is Caius Lucius.

Cymbeline. A worthy fellow,
Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;
1040But that's no fault of his: we must receive him
According to the honour of his sender;
And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us,
We must extend our notice. Our dear son,
When you have given good morning to your mistress,
1045Attend the queen and us; we shall have need
To employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen.

[Exeunt all but CLOTEN]

Cloten. If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,
Let her lie still and dream.
1050[Knocks]By your leave, ho!
I Know her women are about her: what
If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold
Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes
1055Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
Their deer to the stand o' the stealer; and 'tis gold
Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief;
Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man: what
Can it not do and undo? I will make
1060One of her women lawyer to me, for
I yet not understand the case myself.
[Knocks]By your leave.

Imogen. But that you shall not say I yield being silent,
I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: 'faith,
I shall unfold equal discourtesy
To your best kindness: one of your great knowing
1095Should learn, being taught, forbearance.

Imogen. As I am mad, I do:
If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad;
That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir,
You put me to forget a lady's manners,
By being so verbal: and learn now, for all,
1105That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce,
By the very truth of it, I care not for you,
And am so near the lack of charity—
To accuse myself—I hate you; which I had rather
You felt than make't my boast.
1110

Cloten. You sin against
Obedience, which you owe your father. For
The contract you pretend with that base wretch,
One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes,
With scraps o' the court, it is no contract, none:
1115And though it be allow'd in meaner parties—
Yet who than he more mean?—to knit their souls,
On whom there is no more dependency
But brats and beggary, in self-figured knot;
Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by
1120The consequence o' the crown, and must not soil
The precious note of it with a base slave.
A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth,
A pantler, not so eminent.

Imogen. Profane fellow
1125Wert thou the son of Jupiter and no more
But what thou art besides, thou wert too base
To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough,
Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made
Comparative for your virtues, to be styled
1130The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated
For being preferred so well.

Imogen. He never can meet more mischance than come
To be but named of thee. His meanest garment,
1135That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer
In my respect than all the hairs above thee,
Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio!

Imogen. I am sprited with a fool.
Frighted, and anger'd worse: go bid my woman
Search for a jewel that too casually
1145Hath left mine arm: it was thy master's: 'shrew me,
If I would lose it for a revenue
Of any king's in Europe. I do think
I saw't this morning: confident I am
Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it:
1150I hope it be not gone to tell my lord
That I kiss aught but he.